April 14th, 2012
by CSIGurlie07
Summary: A hundred years later, she is still adrift. Maybe this year, someone will be able to help bring her home.


_A/N: This idea was given to me by a reader. I ran with it. It's a little late, considering I'd wanted to post it on the actual centennial, but better late than never, I always say... :D_

_Enjoy!_

* * *

Will was nervous. For all the confidence he'd gained in himself since joining Magnus and her Network, it did nothing to quell the adrenaline tingling in his veins, or the anxious flipping of his gut. Nothing he'd faced thus far could have prepared him for this.

Surveying the crowd of people milling around him, he considered how he had come to be here, wondering if it had been a good idea after all…

_It had taken far more courage than he'd anticipated for his feet carry him into Magnus' office. Things were relatively quiet in the Sanctuary, and he knew she was merely catching up on paperwork that couldn't be left for another day. But the thick cardstock in his fingers weighed like a lead brick, making his steps slow and hesitant, ready to back out the moment he realized the folly of his brilliant, insightful idea._

_But when those bright blue eyes lifted to his, there had been no backing out._

"_Is anything the matter, Will?"_

_She must have seen his gallows-ready expression. He forced himself to relax, and felt his features lighten in response. _

"_No, everything's fine," he assured her, perhaps a little too quickly. "The new intake's been processed, and Henry's getting him settled in his new habitat."_

"_Excellent." She paused, as though contemplating going back to her work. But when he remained in front of her desk, stiff as a board, she put her pen down and folded her hands atop her desk. "What is it, Will?"_

_He took a deep breath, fighting the tightness in his chest. "Nothing," he lied. When she didn't release him from her gaze, he caved. "It's just… there's a museum. In Halifax. A college buddy of mine was part of the team that prepped the exhibit, so he sent me some comp'd tickets and—you want to come with me?"_

_Her brows arched, and he knew his rushed delivery sparked more interest than it didn't. "Halifax?"_

"_Yeah, I mean—if it's too far, I understand. It's just that he sent two tickets, and… You know what, it's no big deal."_

_He could take Abby. After all, she was whom his friend Josh had intended the ticket to go to. How Josh had found out about his new "FBI lady", he'd never know, but Abby probably really would like to go. She was fascinated by the whole thing; she'd seen the movie a thousand times, read dozens of books both fiction and nonfiction alike, researched it to within an inch of her life. But even so, Will knew her appreciation would be distinctly impersonal compared to that of one Helen Magnus._

_That is, if he stopped rambling long enough for her to make a decision one way or another._

"_And to which exhibit did your friend contribute?" She was humoring him, he could hear it in her voice. But he was less than reassured._

_He swallowed thickly. "It's a kind of centennial exhibit…" He met her gaze, and at the sight of her razor-sharp gaze, dropped his attempt to stall. "…of the RMS Titanic."_

_Her expression didn't shift in the slightest, but she fell so absolutely still he could almost feel the air turn frosty with her shock. At least, he hoped it was shock. It was just as likely she'd explode into a retaliatory temper, using anger to cover the pain of unexpected remembrance. He'd sprung it on her, he knew that. Hell, she probably didn't even realize what day it almost was._

_But to his relief, her gaze shifted to her desk. She gathered her thoughts, processing through god-knew-what before saying anything rash._

"_I'm sorry," he delivered, the tension finally broken. He could finally breathe again. "I probably shouldn't have mentioned it, but… I wanted to offer."_

_He didn't know if there was any kind of closure for victims of a hundred year old tragedy, but if there was any at all to be had, he wanted her to have it. But he didn't know if it would be worth it for her to dredge up the memory of that night. The way she'd spoken of it in that New Orleans hotel room, he knew it still haunted her, no matter how many horrors she'd seen since._

_She surprised him by saying "All right." _

So here they were, in a wide room with vaulted ceilings and marble everywhere you looked. Stone pedestals stood adorned with glass houses, displaying the items recovered from the wreckage on the ocean floor. Every so often, a television flashed along the walls, depicting various stages of the fateful journey, from the close call at port to the final blow of the iceberg.

It was at one of these televisions that he rejoined her, having gotten separated when he'd lingered too long at a plaque about Molly Brown—"Maggie". He approached her carefully, watching her stand stiffly as too-bright eyes watched a CGI ocean liner strike a blocky iceberg, tilt, splinter into two, and then slide into the ocean. When the whole thing began anew and she made no move to leave, he knew she wasn't really watching.

"Did it really happen that way?" he asked, voice low. Physics and currents and simulations were great, but it couldn't trump eye-witness testimony.

She blinked, as though rousing herself. Her gaze flickered towards the screen, then looked away. "Of course," she responded softly. "They've rendered the event quite accurately." Will didn't respond, lately. "Of course, they forgot the hundreds of bodies pulled down with the ship. And the thousand left to freeze on the surface."

He wondered if she still heard the screams, the cries for help echoing across the frozen landscape. The placid blue water on the screen seemed cartoonish by comparison.

"I read that they're not really sure if Molly Brown actually went back for survivors," he said softly.

"Another of the media's sensationalist inaccuracies," she returned bitterly, unsurprised. "The truth is known to whom it matters. Margaret surely never cared if anyone knew her exploits."

Will hesitated. "Do you miss her?" Because that's what the purpose of the exhibit truly was. To remember that which had been lost.

It was a long moment before she answered, and when she did diamonds sparkled on her eyelashes. "Yes," she said, her voice thick. "Some days more than others."

It came as more of a reassurance than he intended to find. For someone who played her emotions so close to the chest, it soothed him, somehow, to know she still thought about those no longer with her. Those not part of the Five, those who were not her daughter. To him, it often seemed that they were the most readily forgotten.

Wordlessly, they abandoned the ghoulish replay, moving along to the next display. They looked at the plates she might very well have eaten from, the chair she herself might have sat on. She remained impassive throughout, commenting little and offering the barest of answers to the few questions he posed. Eventually, he stopped pestering her, allowing her to take in the exhibit in peace.

But when they reached the glass box displaying the personal effects of one of the passengers, Will's eyes watched Magnus closely. Her features were guarded, taking in the sight of the battered belongings. Her eyes glistened, but he wasn't sure if it was tears or the soft light of the display. Briefly, he wondered if the belongings were hers. They could have been—they were unclaimed, here in the museum, surrounded by the possibility of the any-man.

A century ago, it could have been any one of these patrons, sailing on the luxury barge instead of being in the museum. That was the draw, he supposed. To imagine themselves as a part of something so monumental. But as he watched Magnus, he had to wonder… where did that leave her?

"It's amazing what they can do nowadays," he said, his voice low and gentle. He spoke to her, but didn't know if she was even listening. "That they could recover this stuff… it's mind-blowing."

No response came, for a long moment. Then—"Yes," she bit out sharply. "Fascinating." Another beat passed. "It's something humanity has yet to learn… Just because you _can_ do something—doesn't mean you should."

Will blinked, his spirits falling in spite of his readiness. He'd been expecting it, her disapproval, since she'd agreed to come. Some part of him had suspected it would come to this, but even so, he'd hoped he'd be proven wrong. "You mean…"

"Little more than grave robbers," she muttered thickly. "They should have left it on the ocean floor."

With that she turned, barely a rustle of fabric announcing the motion as Magnus stormed away, bumping Will's shoulder in her haste. She probably hadn't intended to make contact with him at all, but the emotional force of it turned him aside, leaving him staring after her with a heavy heart.

It really had been a bad decision after all.

* * *

The ride from museum to hotel was tense and silent. Magnus's eyes were shuttered, and though a tense furrow creased her brow, Will sensed it wasn't anger she was trying to hide from him. Her eyes stared unseeing out the window, and he wondered which memory was playing itself out in her mind. He didn't ask, and she didn't offer any hints. In fact, she didn't say a word to him the entire way, not until he asked her to dinner as they crossed the hotel lobby. Her acceptance of the offer surprised him.

The reason for his offer burned a hole in his pocket during the first and second courses, and only once the meal began to wind down did he gather his courage and move the conversation from its safety zone of weather and business.

"Magnus, I'm sorry I asked you to come here," he delivered, his voice stronger than he felt, especially when blue eyes met his with a tense regard.

"I could have easily declined," she returned smoothly. It was neither a denial nor a reassurance, and her ready response made him wonder if she hadn't considered the meal his attempt to make up for his obvious error in judgment.

"But you didn't," he countered. "Which means that you were looking for something, here, and whatever it was—you didn't find it."

She was silent for a long moment, her dark head bowed as she gathered her thoughts. Finally, she looked up, her features smooth and calm. "I'm not sure what I was expecting to find, Will. But the error in judgment is my own. I should have known better than to try to revisit the past." Interesting choice of words, considering how she'd spent the last 118 years. "Nothing good ever comes of it."

"I can't speak to that," he said simply. He reached into his inside coat pocket, and withdrew a soft velveteen box. He handed it to her across the table, dodging the leaning breadsticks. She accepted it, her eyes wordlessly prompting him to explain himself.

"I planned to give this to you right after we left the museum, but in my head I'd pictured the exhibit being more…" _God_. He didn't even know what he'd expected from the museum. Perhaps some gratitude from Magnus, for his miraculous friend who'd sent the tickets. Or some soul-soothing epiphany that gave her some sense of closure. But in the end, he couldn't bring himself to put it into words. He let it go with a shrug.

"I suppose this also falls into the realm of epic stupidity and complete violation of personal boundaries, but… I did it, and it's done. It'd be wrong for me to keep it." He swallowed, watching her lift the lid of the jewelry box. "It belongs with you."

The box's hinge creaked as it reached its apex, and Magnus fell absolutely still. For an interminable moment, she was expressionless as she gazed at the contents within. But then, he saw her eyes widen slightly, brightening with some unidentifiable emotion. Her cheeks hollowed minutely, as though the air had been sucked from her lungs.

Anyone watching might not have noticed the subtle intricacies of her reaction—to them, she might have even seemed impassive. But Will saw it, and knew her well enough to know that what he was watching was profound.

"This—" Her voice failed her. She swallowed, lifting her gaze to his as her fingertips drifted across the watch's smooth glass face. "Will, this is—

He knew who it belonged to. He'd known as soon as his friend had mentioned the inscription etched into the inside cover.

_To the world's dearest friend. _

_ All my love, Helen M._

It was a men's pocket watch, complete with chain and fob. And as soon as his friend had voiced his miraculous find and the name belonging to it, Will had set things in motion.

"Will…" Magnus' voice brought his thoughts back to the present. "How did you…?"

He offered a rakish grin he only half-felt. "Let's just say that friend I mentioned owed me a big one." So what, if Will had offered to pay off Josh's outstanding student loans? It was worth it, just to get over the hurdle of trying to convince the scholar to relinquish a single item of his find. After that, navigating the international red tape had been a cake walk. His own name was starting to carry some weight in certain circles, and Magnus' cut through the rest.

It was legally hers; no one would come looking for it, claiming it as a piece of national treasure. This treasure would remain hers, and hers alone.

"James had left it at the London Sanctuary. I had intended to return it to him when I joined him." Her voice was so soft, so gentle. "It was almost a year before I realized…"

Will remained silent. He could only imagine what that year might have been like. What little she had shared with him that night in New Orleans had only hinted but the psychologist in him could see the truth behind the shadows in her eyes. Her experience on the Titanic had shaken her to the core, and even now he wondered if she had ever truly recovered from it. Their line of work had always made it all too easy to simply ignore a problem until it was bearable. There was always a job to throw themselves into, to delve into the Abnormal world so deeply that everything else faded away.

This trip had dredged the Titanic back up to Magnus' surface, and just maybe this last gift of his would be the balm to soothe the hurt.

But just as likely, she believed it should still be on the ocean floor, swallowed by the sea, as she had declared of the other items pulled from the deep. The lid of the velvet box shut with a sharp snap, startling Will as Magnus surged to her feet, the motion only slightly softened by her usual grace.

"Excuse me," she murmured, her voice low.

Will nodded, acknowledging her need for space. "I've got this," he assured her, nodding to the remnants of their meal. He tried not to let his disappointment show, though he had officially tallied the watch in the 'miss' column.

She glided past him, her hand squeezing his shoulder and lingering for just a moment before she moved on. Nothing was said, nothing offered to give him any indication of whether she was grateful or resentful.

He didn't see her again that night, and the next day the flight home was spent in silence as they both pretended to sleep in the uncomfortable plane seats. Then she disappeared into her quarters, and Will could only offer a wordless shrug when the Big Guy eyed him and chuffed in concern, which in turn earned him a glower and a grunt from the manservant. Then Will was left to himself, alone in a house that was suddenly much larger than it was when he'd left it.

But the next morning, at the weekly staff meeting, Will walked into the very picture of _normal. _Henry and Kate were jostling each other on one of the couches, bickering, while Magnus looked on from her regal seat that stood just slightly off center of their informal briefing room. The Big Guy hovered over her right shoulder, and golden eyes met Will's for a brief moment, and Will knew he was still worried, despite the fact that Magnus' lips were tilted up into a bemused smile of indulgence.

Will took his own seat on the couch across from Henry and Kate, and they got down started. It was the standard meeting, a weekly update to the goings on of each department, and there was nothing more urgent to report than a _Rhodilopteryx_ with a cold. Magnus issued her instructions that would get them through the week, and then they were done.

Kate raced Henry out of the room, and Biggie grunted a farewell as he, too, took his leave. Will hesitated for just an instant before he got to his feet, fighting the urge to apologize once more for the museum. But even as he thought better of it, the split second he paused gave Magnus the opening to rise first. She did, further evidence that more talk was not on the agenda, but as she got to her feet, he spied the glint of metal dangling from her vest button.

He hadn't paid any attention to her choice of attire—she'd worn the slacks and vest ensemble before, and while it was striking, it lacked the novelty of some of her softer outfits. But now he saw the narrow chain that dipped from the center button of the waistcoat to terminate at a pocket that bulged with a telltale shape.

The chain shone like quicksilver, almost pristine save for the scoring and pitting that belied the abuse it had survived. Will had gotten the gears replaced, so that its hands were no longer frozen in that moment in time when so many lives were irrevocably altered, but the face and housing were the same glinting brass that Helen had gifted her best friend, her oldest friend. If she pulled the watch from its pocket, he would see it stained and tarnished—cleaned, but undeniably changed.

The sight of that chain, and the ticking he swore he could hear in the sudden silence of the room, made him freeze. Then he blinked up at Magnus to find her expecting his gaze. Her blue eyes were waiting, pulling him in for a long moment. Two nights ago, her eyes had been flat with guardedness; now they glowed with warmth, conveying such deep gratitude that it took his breath away.

It took all his remaining wits to return the nod that said more than words ever could. And later that night, when she kissed his cheek goodnight, he didn't even try to deny the elation that bubbled happily in the pit of his stomach.

This time, he had done good.


End file.
